


Fell From The Sky Into My Lap

by Bellelaide



Series: ENT [4]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: M/M, Porn Without Plot, england nt, sue me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 01:18:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16398647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellelaide/pseuds/Bellelaide
Summary: John gets a karma sutra book. That’s it. That’s what happens.





	Fell From The Sky Into My Lap

**Author's Note:**

> Soz bout this... it happened on a whim. A little mid week blast. Thanks for being so amazingly unbelievable about all the things I write. You guys make me so so happy xxx

Jordan was at work, running drills and minding his own business, when John bought the book. 

Jordan had paused in his training to grab a drink from his bag and check his phone, chest heaving with the exertions of the regime. He opened the bottle with his mouth whilst he used his right hand to unlock his phone, a text from John sitting there waiting for him. 

It was a photo of a book, a red and black one with 101 Positions for Mr and Mr written on the front in loopy white writing. Jordan looked at it impassively whilst he chugged his Powerade, his chest puffing in a laugh as he read the words John had sent to accompany it: ‘just got this and now I’m horny as fuck come home please’ 

Jordan bit the spout of his bottle and used both hands to compose a reply: 

JP: do we need that? Isn’t that for people married 40 year? 

John replied instantly. 

JS: no  
JS: come home now 

Jordan glanced over at where the coaches, Stekelenburg and Hewelt were waiting for him, and sighed. 

JP: give me two hours. Behave yourself 

He dropped his phone back down and jogged over to the rest of the group, firmly putting all thoughts of John and his book out of his mind and focusing on the task at hand. 

— 

Jordan didn’t bother to shower at the grounds. He made his goodbyes and wandered to his car in the car park, scrolling through Instagram. John hadn’t texted him again so he guessed that he was over his previous mood and onto something else. John had a habit of getting excited about something and then dropping it hours later; it was a miracle he even had tattoos given the nature of his attention span. 

Jordan climbed into the car and took his time in choosing a playlist for the drive home. Google maps told him it would take an hour and seven minutes. Jordan loved driving, and the journey to and from work was one of his favourite parts of the day. He started the engine and relaxed into his seat as he pulled out of the space, driving one handed into the darkening night. 

— 

When Jordan pulled into the drive at home, the first thing he noticed was that the blinds were drawn on the living room window. John hated drawing the blinds when it wasn’t night time, complaining it made them look unsociable, and Jordan frowned at the sight of them. 

He parked and turned the engine off, sitting for a moment in the darkened car. He loved to stay in the car long after he’d finished driving and just think, or fuck around on his phone, just whatever. He sat there for a few minutes and was about to leave, reaching for his bag in the passenger seat, when the front door opened and let a rectangle of light out into the driveway. Jordan looked up and saw that John was standing there, hopping from foot to foot, motioning frantically for Jordan to come inside. 

Jordan cocked a brow and picked up his bag, opening the car door slowly. “There a big spider or something?” he asked John, grinning. They both knew it was Jordan who was terrified of bugs and John who had to dispose of them but John didn’t say anything, just waving even harder. 

Jordan walked to the door and came inside, dumping his bag down in the hall whilst John closed and locked the door behind them. “What’s up?” Jordan began saying at the same time as John said “You’re thirty minutes late!” 

Jordan turned around and took John in properly and had to stifle a laugh. “Oh John,” he said softly, eyes crinkling. John was all flushed and warm looking, his hair curling down onto his forehead. His pupils were huge, giving him shark eyes, and his lips looked swollen, like he’d been biting them. He was staring at Jordan dopily, and there was a clear erection in his grey joggers. “What are you like?” Jordan said fondly, stepping forward and grabbing John by the back of the neck, bringing him in for a kiss. 

John was as pliable as a ball of dough, and although he liked to feel little and delicate around Jordan they both loved their shared height for moments like this. John put his hands on Jordan’s chest and kissed him like he was desperate. Jordan brought his fingers to John’s chin and pushed him back a bit, eyes scanning his face. “Slow down,” he told him. “Why you so worked up? Your book?” 

John nodded. “Yeah. And I’ve been watching porn,” he added, eyes never leaving Jordan’s lips. He leaned in to kiss him again and Jordan allowed one before he pushed John back again, smiling. 

“Porn’ll do it, yeah,” he laughed. “You didn’t just have a wank?” 

“Twice already. Working on the third when I heard the car. I want you to sit on my face.” 

Jordan’s eyebrows flickered. “I’ll crush you.” 

“Hardly,” John scoffed. “You’ve got twenty pounds on me.” 

“Yeah, but I’m not a five foot woman. I’m another of you and then some. You won’t be able to breathe.” 

“Have you ever done face sitting? You don’t literally sit on the person,” John said, tugging impatiently at Jordan’s top. “You just hover. I know you can squat good.” 

“Alright, alright - can I shower first? Just in the door, John,” Jordan mumbled, scratching behind John’s ear affectionately. 

“Nah,” John answered greedily. “Just come and sit on my face, please.” 

“That’s plenty,” Jordan said. “I’m showering. Be patient.” 

He stepped around John and went to the bathroom, quiet heat pooling in his stomach thinking of how the rest of his night was going to go. He made it into the bathroom and had turned on the water when John came after him, closing the lid on the toilet and sitting down. 

“Not just porn,” John said, and Jordan hummed. “The pens against Colombia.” 

Jordan laughed a belly laugh and shucked off his trousers, disposed of his top. “That’s got you hard has it?” 

“Always. Rock solid.” John palmed himself once, twice. Jordan swallowed saliva. 

“Make you hard at the time?” 

John thought about it. “Not hard but I definitely thought it was hot. At the time.” 

Jordan pulled his underwear off, and John watched him with dark eyes, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. Jordan’s dick was soft but on the way to hardening up, and he gave it a couple of tugs whilst making eye contact with John. 

“I’m throbbing, Picks,” John said needily. “You’re killing me, here.” 

“Giz a min,” Jordan said as he stepped into the spray of the shower, eyes fluttering as the warm water ran over his sore muscles. Jordan tipped his head back and got his hair wet, reached for the loofah and poured body wash on it. He was rubbing it in circles down his chest when John moaned. Jordan’s eyes snapped up through the glass screen of the shower and took in the sight of John with his legs spread on the toilet seat, rutting against his own wrist where his hand held onto the seat. 

Jordan picked up the pace, really getting turned on himself now. He cleaned thoroughly in all the important places, washed his hair in record speed. “You’re so hot, Stonesy,” he called encouragingly to John. “You’re really really sexy, you know.” 

“Hurry up,” John grumbled. “Come ON.” 

“But when you talk like that it makes me not want to do it,” Jordan answered petulantly. John threw back his head and groaned, socked feet tapping against the bathroom floor rapidly. Jordan took mercy and switched off the water, the pipes creaking as he turned the tap. 

No sooner had his feet hit the bath mat than John was up and on him, getting his clothes wet by pressing into Jordan’s damp skin. They kissed messily, Jordan sticking his hand into John’s underwear and running the backs of his fingers up and down John’s cock where it was sitting up against his pelvic bone. 

John kissed down Jordan’s neck, then said “Now, my face, now.” 

“Bedroom,” Jordan replied weakly. 

“Too far away,” John breathed, sucking a bruise into Jordan’s collar bone. He got down on the floor and lay on his back, chest rising and falling, tugging at Jordan’s ankle. 

Jordan was in no position to deny John any longer, not when he was as desperate as this. With water still dripping from his hair he bent down carefully, knees either side of John’s head. John’s hands came up to grasp at his thighs, raising his face to get to Jordan’s body, when Jordan sat up again suddenly, pausing the moment. 

“What now?!” John groaned, head thudding back against the floor. 

“Just - d’you ever stop and think, in these moments, what you from a year ago would say if he saw it?” 

“Would I be gobsmacked a year ago to see myself lying on the bathroom floor with my tongue in Jordan Pickford’s arse hole? Yes, undoubtedly. C’mon, please,” he spluttered impatiently. “Let’s be philosophical later.” 

With that, Jordan sat down again, hands on John’s thighs, his own bent and supporting his weight. And then, gloriously, miraculously, there was John’s breath, his scraping teeth, the long pad of his tongue. Jordan let his eyes drift closed as he sighed blissfully, working to remind himself not to drop his weight on John’s face. 

“Fuck me, Stonesy,” Jordan moaned. “Why are you so fuckin slutty? So fuckin filthy all the time? So good at this, so good at eating us out.” He pulled at John’s top, tugging it up to expose his nipples. He rubbed his thumb back and forward over one, enjoying the way the muscles in John’s stomach contracted when he did. 

John ate him so eagerly, so uninhibited, it made Jordan’s heart hurt. He couldn’t help pushing back a bit, would rather die than ever allow anyone other than John to hear the ridiculous throaty whining he was making. Jordan squeezed his own dick a few times then reached forward into John’s pants and grabbed his cock, swiping his thumb over the head of it a few times, holding it tight like a gear stick. 

“You’re making me so fucking hard,” Jordan said airily, his words drifting into the steam from his shower. He knew John heard him because his cock jumped in Jordan’s hand, and it was all he could do just to moan and pump his hand up and down John’s length a few times. 

John started poking his tongue into Jordan’s arse and he automatically came forward to take John into his mouth, wanting him close, wanting him to feel as good as Jordan did. He pulled his upper body forward and down and put his mouth over John’s cock and John fucking wailed behind him, abdomen contracting as he followed Jordan’s arse where it had moved with the rest of his body, John’s hands sinking into the meat at the point where Jordan’s thighs met his torso. 

“Jordan!” He complained. “Stop moving!” He buried his face back in and continued eating like his life was depending on it, like he was going to die if he didn’t, even though the angle must’ve been killing his abs. 

It was too much and no where near enough, and Jordan couldn’t follow one train of thought properly except that he was going to come, he was going to come everywhere and he didn’t want to yet, he wanted to at least do one of the things from John’s book before he came for the first time, maybe he’d even ask John to fuck him, and he was repeating John’s name again and again in an incomprehensible litany and John was only encouraged by it, going at it like a pig in a trough, and somehow, somehow, Jordan managed to pull himself up and away, scrambling on shaky legs to get some space, clinging to the sink and saying “Stop, stop stop stop.” 

John sat up on his forearms and looked at Jordan in alarm. “D’do something wrong?” he asked, worried. 

Jordan shook his head. “No. No, fuck, I was going to come. I want - do you want to fuck me?” He said quickly, before he could change his mind. 

John got up carefully, dick still poking out of his joggers. “Me fuck you?” 

“Yeah. With one of the positions from your book.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” Jordan said, putting out a hand for John to take. He pulled him to his feet and kissed his forehead. “Go get the book.” 

John didn’t need to be told twice. He vanished down the stairs, and Jordan splashed cold water on his face before going to the bedroom and collapsing back against the pillows. He was still extremely hard but the threat of orgasm was no longer imminent. Seconds passed before he could hear John’s feet thundering back up the stairs, past the bathroom and into the bedroom. He jumped onto the bed and passed the book to Jordan, settling into the space at the side of Jordan’s body and resting his head on his chest. 

“Alright then,” Jordan said, opening it up. “Let’s see...” 

The page he opened on contained some kind of sex position that required being bent over backwards and Jordan flicked away from it quickly. He wasn’t that bendy, or at least wasn’t in the mood to become a human pretzel. The next page he found looked manageable - it was called The Bodyguard. It required both partners to stand up, with the receiver holding onto a wall or a table whilst the giver entered them from behind. It was supposed to allow for closeness and movement. Jordan rubbed his hand down John’s back. 

“What do you think?” 

“Yeah, Jord, whatever, whatever you want,” John said, peppering kisses down Jordan’s skin. “Whatever’s best for you.” 

“Kay,” Jordan said. “Let’s do it.” 

He’d have been lying if he said he wasn’t shitting himself, having never been penetrated before. The last time John had tried to stick a finger in his arse Jordan had broken down into a fit of laughter, telling John to take it out and probably not do it again in a hurry. 

John was never one to fold in the face of a challenge, though, and he sat up properly, kissing Jordan on the lips. "I'm gonna make you feel so good," he said, voice gravelly. "You're gonna feel so good." 

He got up and went for the lube and Jordan got comfy against the pillows, folding his hands across his chest. He was stark naked and John was still fully dressed and he was musing on how unfair that was when John came back in. Jordan looked at him and thought that he was different suddenly. It was probably all in Jordan's head but when he was relinquishing the decision making to John their dynamic felt different; John felt different. He became more like the John from before the World Cup, confident and cocky and in control. Jordan watched him kneel on the side of the bed and open the lube and he suddenly felt self conscious of his nakedness, vulnerable and weak. John looked up at him with a grin and then double took, his face becoming serious. He came closer, dropping the lube to the side, and put one of his hands on top of Jordan's. 

"What's wrong?" He asked, frowning. "I can see your mind working overtime. We don't have to do this." 

Jordan blinked and smiled, trying to get out of his own head. "No, I want to, I want this - just - you should be naked," he said, and he could see that John was suspicious but he nodded anyway, pressed a kiss to Jordan's temple. 

When John came back he was naked. His skin was so lovely, his body so lovely, it was really a shame he wasn’t naked all the time. He had softened but not all the way, and he looked so determined as he lubed up a finger that Jordan couldn’t help but smile. John grabbed a pillow and came to sit between Jordan’s legs, motioning for him to rise so that he could stick it beneath his hips. He grabbed a hold of Jordan’s dick and moved his hand up and down it a few times, biting his lip as he watched. He took his lubed finger and brought it down, sliding it over Jordan’s hole. He used his other hand to bend Jordan’s knee up and he kissed it, sucked the skin on the inside of his thigh whilst he pressed gently in. 

Jordan gasped a bit and John studied his face, determining that it was okay to continue. He worked it in up to the knuckle and then began to move it in and out, slowly, allowing Jordan to get used to the feeling of it. “Okay?” John asked, and Jordan nodded, mind blown by the thought that John was inside him, inside his body, touching him from the inside. It was crazy, and it made him feel breathless. “Alright then, here we go,” John said, and Jordan wasn’t sure what he meant until John curled his finger and a shot of tingles ran up Jordan’s back. 

His breath hitched as John stroked Jordan’s prostate back and forth, back and forth, and Jordan thought it was a fucking robbery that men were never encouraged to do this, that some straight men would go their whole life without having their prostate touched, and he found his legs opening a bit more and his mouth opening and his voice asking John for more. 

In came a second finger, and Jordan felt like a girl, lying back and being fingered on the bed, and he thought about all the times John had probably done exactly that and it made him harder, it turned him on to think about himself being filled in by any part of John’s body. John was alternating between both of their cocks, a hand here and a hand there, and Jordan was growing squirmy so he said “Now, Stones, bone us now.” 

John shook his head. “Not ready yet,” he said matter of factly, and Jordan was confused because he didn’t know how much more ready he could be. Then John stuck in a third finger and Jordan felt weird, the weirdest sensations, like he was going to pee and like he was going to come but not at the same time, and he was pushing down against John’s fingers and pushing up for friction and growing frustrated and then John pulled the fingers out and Jordan gasped at the emptiness and John said “Now, now you’re ready.” 

They stood up and Jordan went to stand beside the dresser. John brought the lube and followed, pressing up behind Jordan and kissing the back of his neck, tweaking his nipples, tugging his cock, and then he asked Jordan if he was definitely sure and Jordan told him to fucking get on with it and John was pushing the head of his dick against Jordan’s arse. 

Jordan’s heart was thumping, his hands braced against the dresser, eyes wide. John pushed in slowly and Jordan’s mouth fell open, reaching back suddenly for one of John’s hands. He held on tight when he found it, and John murmured into his ear constantly. 

“You’re so perfect, you’re so fit, you’re so good to me, so fucking tight too, fucking fit me like a glove, I’m honestly going to come so quickly, Jord, you’re that hot,” he reassured, and Jordan tipped his head back onto John’s shoulder and embraced the feeling. 

“Feels like me insides have been squashed up into me ribcage,” he said, and John laughed gently, kissed the side of his neck. “You’re inside me,” he marvelled, and John hummed and pressed a hand flat against the bottom of Jordan’s stomach, pretending he could feel himself there if he pushed hard enough. Jordan clenched down experimentally and John choked on a breath. 

“Gonna need you to not do that right now, gonna make me come,” John said into Jordan’s skin. “Can I move?” 

Jordan nodded, and John started to move slowly, excruciatingly slowly, frustratingly slowly, hand going in tandem on Jordan’s dick. “Faster,” Jordan complained, pushing back. “Too slow.” 

John picked up the pace, hips moving expertly. Jordan realised that he was prone to forgetting that John was a man too; that although he usually bottomed for Jordan he was experienced in shagging people and good at it too, that it was no new experience for John to take someone and fuck them. 

“I love you, Stonesy,” he said quietly, finding his own rhythm of pushing back against John’s dick and forward into his hand. “I love you.” 

John bit down on his shoulder in response and started to move faster, dragging against Jordan’s prostate with every stroke, and he moved his mouth to Jordan’s ear and when he said “I want to fuck you like this in the middle of Wembley Stadium so everyone can see how fucking gorgeous you are” Jordan started coming, letting out a high pitched moan, white ropes over the dresser and John’s fist and his own stomach. John was quick behind, hips stilling as he pushed Jordan up against the furniture and chased it, biting Jordan’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood. 

They were both silent for a few beats, Jordan fascinated by the thought that John’s semen was inside his body right now, swimming around in search of a womb it wouldn’t find. He started to laugh, just a low snicker, and John laughed too against his back, rubbing the back of his messy hand up Jordan’s stomach. All too soon John was pulling out and Jordan felt all kinds of weird, empty, spent. He had liked it but he definitely preferred giving it, and he was relieved when John said “That was great, but my arse is jealous as fuck.” 

Jordan turned around and grinned at him. “What arse?” 

“Fuck off,” John said, sniggering despite himself. “We can’t all be the Beyoncé of football, Pickford, can we?” 

“That’s a fucking insult to Beyoncé,” Jordan called over his shoulder as he headed to the bathroom. “You can’t compare Beyoncé to a sweaty smelly Northern English lad.” 

John followed him, leaning in the bathroom doorway. “Dunno like, wouldn’t eat Beyoncé’s arse.” 

Jordan turned on the shower again and looked at John incredulously. “Yes you fucking would.” 

“Yeah, I would,” John laughed, coming over to Jordan and kissing him once, twice, three times. “But it wouldn’t be as good. She’d be a shit goalie. No clean sheets with Bey.” 

“Go and get your book and we’ll see what we can do in the shower,” Jordan said to John, mentally calculating roughly how long it’d be before he could go again. “Hate the thought of your arse being jealous.” 

John did, handing it to Jordan and climbing straight into the shower. Jordan sat down on the closed toilet seat and flicked through it, looking for something manageable under slippery conditions. He flicked past the first page and paused, spotting some writing on the inside of the cover. It was an address and above it a pair of initials - H.K. Jordan looked over at John. 

“Where did you get this? I thought you bought it at Waterstones?” He asked, brows down. 

“What? No. I borrowed it. Off Harry,” John replied. 

“Fuck off? Kane? Harry Kane?” Jordan dropped the book dramatically on the floor like it had burned him. “Harry Kane?! So he’s been doing this with Gareth? John, that’s disgusting! Gareth’ll break his fucking back!” 

“How’s it disgusting? It’s just a book!” John called, shaking his head. “And you don’t know who he’s done it with!” 

Jordan climbed into the shower beside John, shaking chills off his spine. “No more. No more of that book. It’s creeping me out now,” he half joked, and John rolled his eyes but kissed him anyway. 

“That man won the Golden Boot, I’ll have you know. Put some respect on his name,” John teased, grabbing a handful of Jordan’s bum. “Respect.” 

“I’ll never respect anyone who writes their fucking address on the inside of their books,” he muttered, shaking his head. “What is this, 1950?” 

“Shut up, Beyoncé,” John responded, and Jordan quickly spun the tap from hot to freezing, jumping from the shower and running soaking wet down the stairs, John hot on his heels, the prospect of round two in the kitchen looking increasingly likely. 

After all, John’s arse was jealous. It just wouldn’t do.

**Author's Note:**

> Belle-laid.tumblr.com


End file.
